


flourish

by partialresonance



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Gingerpilot, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Oral Sex, Shara Bey's Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28926936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partialresonance/pseuds/partialresonance
Summary: When Poe decides to marry Armitage, it's not so much a story as a moment in time.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32
Collections: Hoelidays Gift Exchange 2021





	flourish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sourlander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sourlander/gifts).



Poe decides he wants to marry Armitage the first time they visit Kes’s farm.

Armitage walks beside Kes through the rows of just-sprouted produce. They’re a bit ahead of Poe, who hangs back to watch them with a little smile on his face. The sun is setting, casting long shadows on the flat fields of the Dameron farm, Kes and Armitage silhouetted against the fierce red-orange light. Poe shoves his hands into his pockets and cocks his head, catching most of the conversation between his boyfriend and his father. Armitage is describing some new fertilizer coming on to the market, Kes asking a barrage of questions in his rough, deep voice. Everything else about Poe’s father might change—he might grow thinner as the years pass, hair going grey, wrinkles appearing in his tanned skin—but his voice stays the same. Armitage makes some kind of cutting remark, and Kes laughs.

The moment settles inside of Poe like a warm bird coming to roost.

He decides to leave them to it for a while. Armitage is an agricultural engineer, and Kes will likely pick his brain for the next few hours. Poe wants them to have this. He knows Armitage’s relationship with his own father is next to nonexistent, and he wants him to know that not all fathers are like Brendol. And he wants Kes to see past Armitage’s record, that had made him so wary of Poe’s new boyfriend when he’d first searched Google for his name and came up with the news story—

Armitage Hux, former trader for First Order Financial, caught embezzling funds under orders of the cruel and mysterious CEO Snoke.

Armitage had gotten off with time served, and it had been more than a decade ago—when he was just out of college, young and impressionable and striving to make something of himself when his father had always told him he was nothing. He’d done so much since then that Poe doesn’t think it’s fair of Kes to judge him for his past, but his father is a simple, honest man with an innate mistrust of anyone who wears suits to work—let alone those who are dishonest in their dealings. The fact that he’s out here talking to Armitage like this—it’s progress. Poe calls out to them, telling them he’ll be in the barn, and Kes turns to him and gives him an impatient little wave before spearing Armitage with another question about some piece of farming equipment.

Poe grins, and sets off across the fields, his boots dusty and brown with dirt.

The barn is a good five minute walk from where they had been out in the field, standing off to the side of the old farmhouse. Poe takes his hands out of his pockets to grab hold of the rusted handles to the large barn doors, grunting a bit as he shoves them open. They slide on metal tracks that may have seen better days, but are still functional, like everything else on the Dameron farm. Inside the barn is a large space dedicated to the old Cessna that Poe had learned to fly on.

When Kes was younger he had supplemented their meager farming income with flight lessons. Now that Poe is out of the Air Force for good, he’s started thinking about the Cessna, about the parts lying around the barn and about how he might like to give it a shot as an instructor—though that would mean moving out here, and Poe doesn’t know if Armitage would ever want that. So for now he shucks off his leather jacket, hanging it on the back of a wooden chair and rolling up his sleeves. The Cessna needs work, and it’s a better use of his time than hanging around listening to Armitage and Kes talk about things Poe only half understands. Poe grabs the tool box and a step stool, and gets to work.

About twenty minutes later, a dry voice with a faint British accent comes from the open barn doors.

“I can get used to that view.”

Poe grins, and looks over his shoulder. He’s bent over the engine compartment, back to the door, where Armitage is leaning with his shoulder against the door, arms folded at his chest and one leg kicked out, ankles crossed. He’s looking openly at Poe, running an appreciative gaze over him, and Poe wiggles his hips a bit for good measure.

“Like what you see, huh?”

“Always have.” Armitage pushes off from the door and walks into the barn. His arms are loose at his sides, posture relaxed and that dramatic light spilling in through the doors behind him, outlining him in burnished gold. Poe puts aside the wrench and hops down from the step ladder, meeting Armitage in three quick strides. He reaches out and hooks his fingers into the belt around Armitage’s slim hips and yanks him forward so that the taller man stumbles into his chest.

Armitage’s lips are already on Poe’s before he can apologize for his enthusiasm.

For once, Poe is the one to pull away first, wanting to keep it chaste. He smoothes his thumbs over Armitage’s hips, head tilted back so he can meet Armitage’s curious gaze with his own bold stare.

“You look good out here.” Poe runs his hands up Armitage’s forearms to his shoulders and back down to his elbows. His pale skin is chilly under Poe’s palms. Springtime on the farm means all the heat flees as soon as the sun sets, the days not warm enough yet to raise the temperature of the ground. Armitage’s jacket is in their car; all he’s wearing is a thin T-shirt, probably thinking that anything else would be too fancy for Kes. Armitage strives not to remind Poe’s father of his past. “You and Dad get along alright?”

“I think so.” Armitage toys with Poe’s collar, other hand pressed flat against Poe’s chest as he stands in the circle of his arms. “I talked him out of upgrading his seeder until next season. I think the market price will drop by then, enough to make it more of a profitable investment for an operation of this scale.”

“Where is he now?”

“Making sandwiches?” Armitage lifts an eyebrow, and Poe nods, because Armitage is looking at him like he’s confirming that this is typical behavior for Kes. “I offered to help in the kitchen, but he said I should see if you needed any help out here.”

“Well, I don’t really. I’m just tinkering.” He squeezes the arms looped around Armitage. “But I’m glad you’re here, anyway.”

“We were boring you.”

“No,” Poe laughs. “I just…” He looks aside then, struck with a bit of panic when his eyes start to prick out of nowhere. “I liked seeing you two together like that. Wanted to leave you to it.” He swallows, telling himself to _get a grip, Dameron._

Armitage is silent for a moment. Then he slides his arms around Poe and pulls him into a tight embrace, their chests pressed together and Armitage curled slightly to conform to Poe due to his height. His lips end up near Poe’s ear, their cheeks touching as Armitage says softly,

“He doesn’t hate me.”

“Of course he doesn’t.” Poe turns his head so that his nose presses against Armitage’s neck, inhaling deeply. Armitage doesn’t have one identifiable scent, but a muddle of things that all combine into a fragrance that soothes some deep-rooted part of Poe’s brain, the animal part of him that needs warmth and shelter from the cold and food in his stomach and Armitage.

“I thought he still might. The first time he saw me it was like he was looking at something unpleasant he’d stepped in, that got stuck to the bottom of his shoe. I would…understand if he didn’t trust me.”

“I wouldn’t,” Poe says fiercely. “You were just a kid, and Snoke manipulated you. I think my dad gets that now. He sees how you are with me, and that’s more than enough for him.”

“I will try very hard not to prove either of you wrong.”

“Hey!” Kes’s brash voice rings out from the entrance, along with the rap of his knuckles against wood. “You two decent in there? Sandwiches are ready.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Poe calls back, rolling his eyes. “We’re coming.”

As they make their way out of the barn, Armitage starts rubbing his exposed arms that have pimpled into goosebumps in the rapidly chilling air. Poe loops an arm around him and yanks him to his side. It’s awkward to walk that way, their hips bumping and feet threatening to tangle with each step, but Armitage leans all the more on Poe and Poe thinks—

What Armitage had said back in the barn had been a promise, and Poe feels the sudden desire to make his own. To make sure Armitage will always be here beside Poe, walking up the rickety steps into the old farmhouse, accepting a plate from Kes and leaning against the plastic counters and faded wooden cabinets in the kitchen, fitting neatly into Poe’s life as if he had always been there. Poe finds himself unconsciously brushing against the shape of the ring lying snug against his chest. It had been there ever since his mother had died, but suddenly it feels as if he’s only holding it in trust, like it already belongs to the man beside him. Armitage’s lean body is curved slightly to fit in to the tiny kitchen, soft red hair falling over his face so he has to twitch it aside each time he takes a bite. Poe looks at the long, delicate fingers holding the sandwich and wonders how hard it would be to guess the right size.

It’s a four hour drive home from Kes’s, so the two of them stay the night, grabbing their overnight bags out of the car as the sky darkens and the stars begin to come out. Poe catches Armitage looking up at them, and gives him a little nudge.

“Gorgeous, right?” Poe grew up on the farm, under these stars, but Armitage is a city boy through and through. His job often takes him out to the countryside, but he’s rarely still there by nightfall. Armitage looks sheepish at being caught, quickly lifting the bag onto his shoulder and taking long strides towards the house that force Poe to jog a little to catch up, a half-smile etched onto his face.

The guest bedroom bears signs of being hastily cleaned up for their arrival, a few boxes still stacked haphazardly in the corners. Poe had been worried, at first, that they would be intruding on Kes’s space by staying the night—but the longer he and Armitage are here, the more Poe realizes that his father loves hosting them, and worries that he might be getting lonely living out here on the farm by himself. That realization makes something in Poe’s heart clench up tight.

Armitage uses the bathroom across the hall while Poe kicks off his shoes and unbuttons his pants, letting them pool around his ankles and then stepping out, kicking them over to his bag. The only thing he removes with care, placing it on the side table after briefly pressing it to his lips, is his mother’s ring.

He smiles as he hears the clink of metal on porcelain coming from the bathroom. He knows exactly what Armitage is doing—laying out all of his hygiene products for easy access in the morning, his toothbrush and toothpaste and the heavy metal-handled razor. It’s the exact opposite of what Poe would do, that meticulous forethought that comes as naturally to Armitage as breathing. Poe pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it into the pile, standing in the middle of the room in his boxers by the time Armitage comes back.

The room is dark, but the moonlight flooding in through the window is enough to navigate by. The wooden floors creak under Armitage’s feet as he approaches his side of the bed, and Poe sits down to watch him undress. He does so with the same efficiency with which he does everything—pants and shirt off and neatly folded, placed on top of his bag, tomorrow’s set of clothes already laid out. Poe sleeps in just his boxers, but Armitage pulls on a soft pair of sleep pants and a worn T-shirt before sliding in to bed. The quilt is old, rough under Poe’s hands as he pulls it over the both of them and then turns towards Armitage.

He gets a firm grip on Armitage’s slender waist, and yanks him flush against his chest. Armitage surely knows to expect this by now—Poe has done it without fail every night since they began sleeping together, in the literal sense—but he still makes a disgruntled little huff as Poe manhandles him.

Poe buries his nose in Armitage’s hair with a happy sigh.

“Love you,” he whispers.

“I—love you, too.” Armitage squirms a bit, getting comfortable as Poe spoons him. The words are still a bit stilted, but they come easier each time. Poe worms his hand up beneath Armitage’s shirt, stroking his stomach and ribs. Armitage presses back a bit against him. No matter how much he pretends to only tolerate Poe’s clinginess in bed, he always ends up seeking Poe’s warmth, relaxing under his touch and drifting off. Poe squeezes his eyes shut and listens as Armitage’s breaths even out, deepening and coming slower as he falls off into sleep.

The farmhouse is quiet, then. Poe can hear the faint sound of Kes’s snores coming from down the hall, the creaking and groaning of the house as a mild spring wind shifts the old boards, crickets in the tall grasses of the yard. They’re the same sounds Poe remembers from his childhood, and they awaken something within him, that innate feeling of safety and home and falling asleep in a timeless place where nothing can touch him. The only difference is that now Armitage is in his arms, and Poe hears the steady rhythm of his breaths as well, puffing out soft and slow against the pillow. His socked foot twitches, and Poe hooks his leg over both of Armitage’s, holding him secure.

Poe doesn’t realize he’s dropping off until he wakes up again. He thinks it’s only been a couple of hours, because the depth of night is still heavy upon the farm and the old farmhouse, but the quality of the moonlight has changed and Armitage is awake beside him. Armitage is stroking Poe’s arm that is wrapped around him, shifting minutely in Poe’s hold.

“Can’t sleep?” Poe whispers.

“Had a dream,” Armitage whispers back.

“Hmm. Good dream? Bad dream?” Poe smirks. “Sexy dream?”

Armitage huffs out a laugh.

“Courtroom dream.”

“Definitely not a sexy dream, then.” Poe keeps his tone light and teasing, but his hands slowly coax Armitage to turn over to face him. Armitage goes easily, one leg hooking up over Poe’s so that their bodies slot together. Armitage curls up, face pressed to Poe’s chest and hands gathered up under his chin, and Poe strokes his back, alternating between sweeps of his open palm and running a thumb up and down the ridges of his spine.

“I just kept arguing in circles,” Armitage says, annoyed. “Saying the same things over and over again. They’d ask the same questions, different ways—well. That part really did happen. But in the dream I can’t make myself understood. It’s frustrating, more than anything.” He shrugs, but Poe can feel the guilt radiating off of him.

“Listen. It doesn’t matter what happened back then. Just try focusing on the present. You’re doing amazing things now. You’re helping _feed_ people, for cryin’ out loud.”

Armitage snorts.

“I could’ve gone into any kind of engineering. I just happened to like the practicalities of this one.”

Poe chuckles, squeezing Armitage close. He knows it’s true—Armitage _could_ have chosen any engineering track when he’d gotten himself back on his feet and sought to start a new career after the debacle of his first. He’s smart and dedicated and ambitious enough for it. But Poe knows that Armitage really had been drawn to the idea of solving one of the world’s most pressing issues: how to feed a growing population sustainably. He claims it wasn’t a choice made on morality, but Poe isn’t so sure about that.

He hooks a finger under Armitage’s chin, tilting his head back. It exposes the long line of his neck and Poe noses along it, then starts dropping little kisses against the soft skin. Armitage breathes out, shifts closer to him, tilts his head even further to give Poe better access. Armitage may not be able to shut off his mind, but Poe can. He tangles his fingers in Armitage’s soft pajama shirt, pressing his knuckles into the small of his back. Drawing his lips up his neck to breathe out over his ear before taking the lobe gently between his teeth. Armitage shudders, moves impossibly closer.

“Ah.” It’s a quiet exhalation, followed by a soft whisper. “Your father—?”

Kes’s snores have long been replaced by the silence of deep sleep. Poe presses a smile against Armitage’s lips and whispers back.

“Just have to be quiet. S’okay.” He pulls the edge of the quilt up over them so that the rough seam lies against their foreheads, just the tops of their heads exposed to the room as they are cocooned together. It’s dark, and quiet, and warm, and Poe’s world narrows until there is nothing but Armitage’s body beneath his hands and lips.

They kiss for a long time, unhurried, each press of their lips insistent and intimate and gentle. It’s so different from how they had first come together—a storm of rough hands stripping clothing, pushing each other against walls and headboards in their haste to consume each other. Now they are wise enough to go slow, to know that this doesn’t have to end when the next day dawns, casting cold light on decisions made in the dark. Now Poe can kiss Armitage until he starts moving rhythmically against him, aching for more. Now Poe can hold him steady while he keeps kissing him, even when Armitage’s hands grip his hips and pull and pull, even when he whines a little into Poe’s mouth, even when his lips part to whisper _please_.

They can’t get very fancy, here in the house where the bed creaks and Kes slumbers peacefully down the hall with only thin walls to separate them. And Poe finds that anyway all he wants to do is feel Armitage against him, rubbing with long, slow presses that remind him of his teenage days when he first discovered his body’s new desires. He rolls over on top of Armitage and ruts against him, making sure to provide friction against Armitage’s erection so that they both begin to pant beneath the quilt. Armitage shudders when he comes, releasing a cracked little moan that Poe quickly smothers in a bruising kiss as he tumbles over the edge as well, driving his hips down against his lover and losing himself to the taste of Armitage on his tongue.

They strip off their underwear, dabbing at each other’s mess with quiet little laughs and again Poe feels that tugging in his heart as he’s reminded of growing up in this house, bringing himself off and quickly covering up the evidence, sneaking loads of laundry after school while Kes was still out in the fields. Of course this is better, it’s _so much better_ , but the similarities are there. Armitage’s cheeks are hot with embarrassment as Poe holds his face in his hands and kisses his nose.

Then they lay together, finally allowing the quilt to drift down across their chests as they breathe out into the air of the room that tastes cool and clean compared to the close heat they had shared beneath the blanket. Poe rolls onto his back, one arm folded and hand beneath his head, the other arm around Armitage as he rests his head on Poe’s chest. Poe looks up at the ceiling and smiles in the dark.

“Hey,” he whispers, after several long moments of silence, wondering if Armitage has drifted off again.

“Hey.” Armitage trails his hand back and forth over Poe’s stomach, just shy of being ticklish. Poe drums the fingers of the hand cupped around Armitage’s shoulder. He keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling, only able to make out the faint outline of the ceiling fan in the dark. He has a nervous, fluttery feeling flickering to life in his stomach and he bites his lower lip, wondering how to say what he needs to say, the magic words that will fix this moment in time so that he can come back to it again and again.

“You ever think about the future?”

“…Yes. I suppose. What do you mean?” And Poe knows where Armitage’s head has gone then—maglev trains and vertical farms and asteroid mining—and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“I don’t mean like, the future of humanity. Mr. Science Fiction Nerd.”

“Alright then.” Armitage lightly slaps his stomach. “Be more specific.”

“I mean…your future.” His stomach seizes up then, and he has to force himself to finish. “What it looks like. What you want.”

Armitage is quiet for a long moment.

“Why do you ask?” His tone is careful, measured, his body tense. Poe’s stomach drops.

“No reason,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut and taking his hand out from behind his head to wrap his other arm around Armitage. “Forget I said anything.”

“I’m sorry.” Armitage tries to move but Poe holds him close, tighter than he should, eyes still shut against the wave of embarrassment, and disappointment, and self-doubt. Armitage squirms free anyway, scooting farther up so his head is no longer level with Poe’s chest but on the pillow next to him, and his cool hand is on the side of Poe’s face to turn it towards him. Poe looks at him, knowing Armitage’s eyes must be open as well but unable to really make them out in the dark. “Poe, I’m sorry. I—I love you. I don’t know how to talk about this, though.”

“It’s okay.” Poe sighs, and gives Armitage a quick kiss. “I’m tired. Let’s go to sleep.”

The next morning, they eat scrambled eggs off of paper plates—Armitage keeps his mouth shut about the waste, earning a grateful look from Poe—and after helping Kes with a few chores around the house they pack up and leave. Poe’s compact car kicks up a dusty wake as they drive down the bumpy road, a long flat stretch until they turn onto the paved road that will eventually take them to the highway.

Something’s eating at Armitage, Poe can tell right away. He’s fidgety, gaze fixed ahead and drumming his fingers on his knees, jiggling one of those long legs he has to fold up to fit in the front seat of the small car. Poe turns down the radio and lets him work himself up to saying something, as he always does given enough time. Poe suspects that growing up Armitage never really had the singular attention he needed from the important people in his life. He always has this air about him as if he expects to be overlooked, his needs shoved aside for something more pressing. If Poe just gives him time, he’s usually good about opening up to what’s bothering him.

“What you asked last night,” Armitage finally blurts out, as they start to pass rolling hills dotted with small farms, cows and horses out to pasture and only the occasional car passing them headed in the other direction. “I’d like to try again.”

“Baby.” Poe doesn’t take his eyes from the road as he reaches over to pat Armitage’s knee. “I don’t want to put you on the spot. You don’t have to say anything.”

“But I _want_ to, Poe, so shut up.”

Poe chuckles.

“Okay. Shoot.”

Armitage lets out a long breath, and clasps his hand tightly together. Poe chances a glance over at him, and sees Armitage looking down at his hands, expression stern.

“When I think about the future, it is always in the context of what is going to go wrong. I think about losing my job, for whatever reason, and not being able to find another employer willing to overlook my criminal record. I think about what would happen if I did something wrong with my taxes, or got a speeding ticket, or if I fall ill and can’t afford the medical bills. I think about being turned away from a mortgage lender due to my abysmal credit. I think about my father trying to extort some favor from me. I think about all these things and try to hedge against them, try to build up my savings even though I don’t know exactly what I’m saving for.” Poe sees him out of the corner of his eye, turning his headto look at Poe.

“So when you asked me that last night, I had no idea what to say. Because everything good in my life—you, Poe, I’m talking about you—it all feels…not temporary, but…not permanent, either. Like it belongs here, in this moment, and it’s a moment that I want to last forever but I just can’t imagine it, because I’ve never been good at imagining the best case scenario.”

Poe’s throat is suddenly tight. Armitage falls silent then, and Poe blinks, lifts a hand quickly to brush away a tear that has gathered in the corner of his eye. He sees a turnoff up ahead, a slight widening of the road where there’s just enough room to pull the car over, and he signals for it. The car rolls to a slow halt and Poe puts it in park, then finally turns to look at Armitage.

“I love you,” he says, because first thing is first. His voice is a little rough and he pauses to clear his throat, then reaches for Armitage’s hands, holding them gently in his own. He also has to take a deep breath, and push past the fear that they’re not on the same page like he thinks, hopes, they are. Poe always has been the one willing to take the leap, and even though this is a bigger leap than he thinks he’s ever faced before he’s willing to risk it. The words are ready to spill out of him no matter what. “I asked you that last night because seeing you on the farm, and talking to my dad, I—I just couldn’t stop imagining that that’s what our life would be like. Together. If,” Poe’s voice is shaky, wavering as he gives a watery smile, “If that’s what you want, too. To be with me.”

“I want to be with you,” Armitage says quietly, looking down at their joined hands. “I don’t think I quite deserve you but—that’s what I want, anyway.”

“Armitage.” Poe breathes out, shaky and stuttering. A tear slips down his cheek and he lets go of Armitage’s hands, first wiping the tear away and then reaching for the chain around his neck. He’s smiling, and he’s crying, too. He’s scared and happy, anxious and hopeful, hands shaking as he takes the necklace off and fumbles for the ring, finally catching it between numb fingers and finding Armitage’s hand. He presses a kiss to the ring, then presses the ring into Armitage’s palm, and closes Armitage’s fingers over it.

“This belongs to you.” His voice is a whisper. He’s bent over Armitage’s hands, cradling them and finally letting himself fall forward to press his forehead to the knuckles. He feels like he’s taken his heart out of his chest and handed it to the man sitting across from him. There was a long stretch of time when Poe thought he would never find someone to give his mother’s ring to, but there is no one he would rather hold it for him than Armitage.

“Poe.” Armitage sounds terrified. His voice is less watery than Poe’s—he doesn’t cry easily, something else that Poe knows comes from a childhood where things like tears were met with reprimands—but he’s shaking just as much. “Poe, that’s your mother’s ring.” He says it like Poe doesn’t know that, like he could possibly forget.

“It’s yours now.” Poe lifts his head, beaming up at Armitage and blinking through more tears. “If you want it, that is. If you’ll have me.”

“What are you saying?” Armitage is pale, eyes wide as dinner plates, and Poe shrugs, cracking another grin.

“Just that I want you to marry me.” He lets that land, then lifts one hand and slides it along Armitage’s jaw until his fingers brush his ear. “Will you marry me, Armitage Hux?”

“Me?” Armitage’s voice breaks. “You want—me?”

“Yes,” Poe laughs, then sniffs. “Look at what you’ve done to me, buddy. Just the thought of having you forever, it’s messed me up. It’s all I want. I want _you_. I promise you, there’s no one better.”

“Oh…kay.” Armitage still looks confused, and if Poe didn’t know him so well his heart would be quailing at the hesitation in the other man’s voice. But Poe knows its roots, the deep insecurities that run through Armitage like rivers cutting through rock. So he just looks steadily on, hanging over the precipice, knowing that Armitage will pull him to safety at the last possible second.

“Is that a yes?”

“Fuck, of course it’s a yes.” Something breaks in Armitage; breath comes spilling out in a relieved rush and he caves in towards Poe, crushing their lips together and murmuring between swift-falling kisses, “Fuck, I can’t believe—you really—fuck. Yes. _Yes._ Nothing would—fuck, _Poe._ ”

“Hmm, fuck Poe?” Poe smiles into their kiss. “Sounds nice. You should do that.”

Armitage ignores him, but the hand that isn’t curled into a protective fist around the ring comes up to pull desperately at the front of Poe’s shirt. Armitage rocks forward into the kiss, pulling Poe into a rhythm that reminds Poe of a caged tiger pacing back and forth. If it weren’t for the confines of the compact car, the bucket seats and the gear shift between them, Poe knows Armitage would devour him right then and there. As it is, Armitage’s surge of passion pushes Poe up against the wheel, and the sudden bleat of the horn makes them both jump.

The rest of the ride home is quiet, peaceful. Poe turns the music up and smiles as Armitage rests a hand on his knee. When he glances aside at his boyfriend—no, _fiancé—_ more often than not he finds Armitage looking down at the ring. The necklace is looped around his neck but he keeps pulling the ring out, holding it the palm of one hand while the other strokes mindless little circles on Poe’s leg, looking down at the ring like he’s never seen a ring before, like it’s a problem to be solved. But a good problem, judging by the way he smiles softly the whole ride home. One of the problems that Armitage’s clever mind lives to puzzle out.

They swing by Rey’s when they hit town to pick up Beebee. The Shiba Inu bounds into the car, panting and tired from the long walk he’d just gone on with Rey, bless her. When they finally get home Beebee bursts through the door and does a few circles of the apartment before curling up contentedly in front of the couch with a chew toy.

As soon as the door closes behind Poe, Armitage rounds on him.

Their bags _thump_ to the floor as Armitage shoves his fingers into Poe’s hair, backing him up until he’s pressed against the door. The kiss is immediate, bruising and harsh, Armitage’s sharp little teeth nipping at his lower lip. Poe tries to keep up but it’s like a storm has been unleashed, and all he can do is grip Armitage’s hips and hold on. Armitage pulls his hair, yanking his head to the side so he can slide his teeth down the line of Poe’s neck and Poe sucks in a sharp breath. Truth be told, he loves being manhandled like this; his body is already starting to go pliant, putty in Armitage’s hands. Letting himself be dragged this way and that is as thrilling as any high-g barrel roll and being with Armitage, well—it gives Poe that feeling that he’s been chasing since he first learned to fly.

“Hands on the door,” Armitage whispers. “Palms flat.” Poe complies immediately, groaning as he feels heat overtaking him, skin igniting under Armitage’s touch. “Don’t move.”

Armitage’s deft fingers fall to Poe’s trousers, undoing the buttons as he kisses him almost sweetly now, Poe feeling the shape of his smile. Armitage shoves Poe’s trousers down to his thighs and when he goes to his knees it’s a graceful thing, like a long-legged doe bounding through the trees or a cherry blossom borne to earth on late-spring winds. Armitage has that sense of timeless beauty about him, and it shines brightest when he’s alone here, with Poe. He looks up at Poe and Poe thinks he could not possibly love harder than he loves Armitage, and that there is nothing graceful about Poe or his love. He wants to forge it into something that could shatter rock and scorch air and boil water and send great sprays of earth towards the sky until there is nothing left but the destruction that is evidence of exactly what he would be willing to do for the man he loves.

And it’s a challenge already to keep his hands pressed against the door when Armitage pulls his boxers down and starts stroking his cock to hardness, all the while those damn little teeth are nipping at the inside of his thighs and all Poe wants to do is thrust his hands into Armitage’s hair. But he keeps still, as still as he can, pressing himself back against the door and trusting Armitage to follow him, not leave him bereft of the friction and heat his body needs now that Armitage has stoked the fires. The first press of Armitage’s tongue to the base of his cock leaves Poe shaking.

“I want you to come like this, right here,” Armitage breathes, then takes Poe’s cock into his mouth with a little groan as his eyelids flutter. His hands grip Poe’s thighs, hard enough to keep him still even when Poe tries to rock forward. Poe’s mouth falls open as the warm, wet heat of Armitage’s mouth envelopes him, feeling impossibly good. He has to remind his legs not to fold, bracing himself against the door as waves of pleasure start to overcome him.

Armitage slows down, withdrawing so he can lick the shaft from base to tip, over and over again, luxurious and unhurried despite Poe’s increasing fervor. He clenches his hands into fists, digging his knuckles into the door before he remembers he’s supposed to keep them flat. Armitage grips the shaft of his cock in one warm hand and sucks on the tip until everything that is Poe is drawing to a single, unbearably sensitive point, until he lets out a long-held breath in something that sounds like a sob. Every swipe of Armitage’s tongue threatens to send him tumbling into orgasm.

“Armie,” Poe’s voice is cracked, eyes squeezed shut as he struggles to stay still despite the urge to fold in half, the pleasure pooling low in his stomach and his cock an unbearable tide that needs to break. Armitage doesn’t love the nickname, only tolerates it when Poe is like this—in the throes of pleasure, incapable of stringing together more than one syllable at a time. And it almost feels vindictive, like Armitage is going to teach him the dangers of using that name, when he opens again for Poe’s cock, taking all of it into the soft heat of his mouth and sucking hard.

Poe can’t help the little thrust of his hips as his orgasm overtakes him, knocking the air out of his lungs as he comes down Armitage’s throat. A long groan escapes as he folds forward, shaking as the relief of it spills through him, mouth turning up into a smile. He breathes out a laugh as the last little shocks of pleasure race through him, Armitage holding his softening cock in his mouth and breathing heavily through his nose. When Poe finally opens his eyes again he sees the flush of Armitage’s cheeks, the pupils blown wide, making him look wild—like some dangerous creature held in fetters, choosing to supplicate itself before Poe.

“You’re beautiful,” Poe breathes. He finally takes a hand away from the door and threads it into Armitage’s hair, fingers sliding from his temple around to cup the back of his head. And it’s with one hand coaxing Armitage to stand and the other messily pulling his trousers and boxers up around his hips that Poe feels the shift of energy between them, Armitage surrendering to Poe’s solid grasp. Poe bends swiftly, threading arms under Armitage’s thighs and lifting him easily off the ground, picking him up and striding towards their bedroom like a warrior taking home his hard-won reward. Armitage’s long legs twine around his hips, his slender arms around Poe’s neck, his face buried in Poe’s curls. His body language says _carry me everywhere_ , his lips closed tight against letting such vulnerabilities slip loose.

And maybe one day Poe will do just that. Pick Armitage up in the morning and carry him through the day, struggling and squirming and then submitting with exasperation to Poe’s fancy. Putting him on the kitchen counter while Poe makes him breakfast, picking him back up to go to the living room, sitting him in Poe’s lap as they watch TV, as Armitage works on his laptop. But today Poe tosses Armitage onto the bed, earning a surprised yelp from the other man before Poe follows him down.

Poe covers Armitage’s body with his own as he kisses him, pressing him down into the mattress, a possessive fire raging in him that tells him to gather all of Armitage to him and hide him from the world. Because the world has not always been kind to Armitage, but damn it if Poe isn’t going to make sure he’s there from now on as a buffer, and so long as he lives nothing will get through him.

“You’re mine.” He breathes the words softly into Armitage’s open mouth, and Armitage nods, hands gripping Poe’s hair so tight it almost hurts.

“Yes.” He kisses Poe. “Yes, I am.”

Poe slides his hands under Armitage’s shirt, rucking up the fabric as his hands explore the warm skin of his stomach and chest. Then he tugs the shirt over Armitage’s head and starts kissing down his neck.

He’s surprised when his lips find the cool metal chain of the necklace. He draws back, blinking down at Armitage, cracking a smile when he sees the ring sitting on his sternum. Poe gathers Armitage into his arms, pressing their chests together, feeling the hard little circle of his mother’s ring between them.

“Damn, I love seeing this on you.”

“I love wearing it.” Armitage pets the back of his head. “I love you, Poe Dameron,” he whispers, and something in Poe breaks at the sweetness of those simple words, strung together like a spell that could forge their destiny. He smiles as he says the words that will complete the ritual, that feel like vows more binding than any that might be said in public, in front of officiants and family members and friends.

“I love you, Armitage Hux.”

That’s it, then, he thinks. They’re married. Nothing could convince him that this is not his husband beneath him, surging up to kiss him, pulling him down so that their hips align and passion builds between them. Armitage only pauses to remove the ring and place it on the nightstand for safekeeping—then he flops back onto the pillows and fists his hands in Poe’s shirt.

“Need you now, please,” he manages between biting little kisses, “Want to come on your cock.”

“Fuck, yeah.” Poe nods frantically, scooting over just so he can reach for the lubricant they keep in the bedside table drawer. They divest each other of clothes quickly enough, and when Poe settles between Armitage’s bare legs he runs his hands along their slender length, feeling the hard muscle of his calves, the soft skin of his thighs. Every inch of him is more beautiful than the last. Poe’s mouth waters as he sees how hard Armitage already is, and he bends down to lick and kiss his pretty cock.

“Mmmm—wait, ah—“ Armitage pushes his shoulder and Poe pulls back, only to see that Armitage’s face is flushed and his breathing heavy. Armitage chuckles, almost shy as he fiddles with Poe’s hair and says, “I’m—I’m too close, for that.”

“Oh?” Poe’s eyebrow arches and he grins slowly as he realizes that Armitage must have enjoyed sucking his cock almost as much as Poe had. “Then I’d better get to work.” He slicks up a finger then, and starts sliding it over Armitage’s hole, teasing the rim. Immediately, Armitage sighs and leans back, chin tilting up as he melts into Poe’s hand.

Poe is hard again by the time he finally slips a finger inside, groaning at the tight heat he finds there. Armitage’s eyes are closed and Poe rains down little kisses along his hip bones and the dip of his pelvis as he strokes with his finger, slowly beginning to stretch him. He can’t help the little spark of mischief that flickers to life; he trails kisses up Armitage’s stomach to his sternum, then nudges his nose under the other man’s jaw to get his attention as another finger joins the first.

“So what do you think?” Poe asks, smirking, fingers deep inside of Armitage. “Am I going to be Mr. Hux?”

“Um—what?” Armitage gasps as Poe curls his fingers.

“Gotta admit, I like it better than Mr. Dameron for you.” Poe punctuates with wet little kisses to Armitage’s collarbones. He drags his fingers out slowly, pushes back in even slower, and Armitage groans.

“Now, you want—“ His hand grips Poe’s shoulder as his body moves under Poe’s touch. “To talk about, this now?”

“Yeah.” Poe senses Armitage is ready for more and starts pumping his fingers inside of him, the slickness, the heat, the dizzying sounds of Armitage’s pleasure like a drug he needs more of. “I mean,” and his smile is a little bit cruel as he presses it into Armitage’s mouth in a fumbling kiss, “If you can.”

“Bastard,” Armitage breathes. “Oh!” Poe’s fingers surge deep inside of him and Armitage’s mouth hangs open, eyes hooded and dark, cock leaking onto his stomach. “Please, Poe, I’m ready.”

“Yeah, you are.” Poe kisses him then, tongue pushing into Armitage’s mouth, licking every inch of him, curling along his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Armitage is quaking beneath him, making desperate little kitten-noises against his lips. Poe draws his fingers out slowly, hooks a hand under Armitage’s thigh, lines himself up. One hand cups Armitage’s chin and he looks deep into his eyes as he starts to push in, both of them letting out a long moan as his cock slides in, Armitage’s body opening for him.

Armitage shifts, then goes still as Poe waits for him to get used to the feeling. His narrow chest is heaving and his gaze is enraptured, lust-drunk as he looks at Poe. At the first shallow thrust he grunts and clutches Poe to him.

“Go fast,” he whispers, a pleading note in his voice. “I’ve needed to come since I tasted you, in the hallway—please—“

And it’s to Poe’s absolute pleasure that he obeys, driving hard and fast into Armitage, the brutal pace drawing a cracked moan from Armitage, followed by a series of little grunts each time Poe bottoms out inside of him.

“Yes, yes,” Armitage chants, body moving back and forth along with Poe’s thrusts. “Yes, fuck, yes!” His hands clutch at Poe, everywhere, clumsy and desperate and unthinking. Poe’s body is singing, a single thrumming nerve stretched taut with need, climbing higher and higher with each thrust as his cock drags along the walls of muscle inside of Armitage, clenching so beautifully around him. Poe’s hand finds Armitage’s cock, closes around it in a firm grip, the rhythm of their lovemaking providing a pumping action that draws a long, keening moan from the man beneath him.

The thread of Armitage’s pleasure snaps and he comes, gasping, arching into Poe’s touch. Quivering with each wave of ecstasy as it slams into him, come spurting onto his stomach, and Poe has never seen anything more beautiful than Armitage in the throes of orgasm. With an inelegant grunt Poe tumbles over the edge after him, driving his cock ever deeper, finally coming to rest as he spills inside of Armitage. Armitage makes a final, contented sound, sinking back into the mattress, reduced to putty.

The only sound in the room is their breaths, coming hard and fast still, hearts pounding in synchrony as they settle down from their shared high. Poe pulls out of Armitage as gently as he can, and enfolds him in a fierce embrace, every muscle in arms and chest and stomach engaged in bringing Armitage as close to him as he possibly can. Armitage’s head rolls to the side and they kiss messily, uncoordinated tongues and teeth, lips wet and warm.

Moments later they break off, stroking each other all over, hands on shoulders and hips and arms and hair, then finally they lay in quiet contentment. Poe is speechless, sated and warm, every cell flooded with relief and joy. Armitage burrows into him, hiding in the circle of his arms.

“Both.” The word is muffled, Armitage’s face pressed into the space between Poe’s neck and shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“I want both.” Armitage turns his head just slightly, whispering as if he’s asking too much. “Hux-Dameron.”

Poe chuckles.

“That’s so fussy. I love it.” He kisses Armitage’s forehead, nestling further down into the bed with his lover, his partner, his future husband. “What do you want to do now, Mr. Hux-Dameron?”

“Don’t say that yet. It’s bad luck, or something.” Armitage shrugs. “And, this.” Armitage hooks a leg up over Poe’s, pulling himself impossibly close, his slender arms in a vice around Poe like Poe could possibly think of leaving him right now. Or ever. “Just this.”

“Me too.”

Kes’s farm is sun-warmed, sprouting fields of green, filled with laughter and quiet conversations and the hiss of beer can tabs being popped, the clink of bottle openers, the rustle of cloth napkins and shuffling of feet and chairs in the grass. A warm summer wind threads its way through the spaces between their friends, all dressed in button-down shirts and airy skirts, smiling and talking and putting their drinks down to race across the yard first-one-to-the-old-oak-tree-wins.

It was a small ceremony, their vows exchanged beneath a homemade arch with a white wood trellis, heavy green vines and bright yellow flowers. When Kes finally saw all of their wedding guests he declared himself the only adult in the room, and now has parked himself in a folding chair with a beer in one hand and the other petting Beebee, who sits sentinel beside him. Poe smiles, taking a sip of his own beer, the crisp taste of it a welcome chill on his tongue to combat the summer heat. His suit jacket long divested, hanging on the back of another chair, his sleeves are rolled up and bowtie undone. He casts a glance across the yard, seeking out Armitage who had been speaking with Rey—but now only sees Rey, laughing at something Rose has said while she changes the song playing through the Bluetooth speaker connected to her phone and pulling the other woman into a dance.

Poe has a hunch where his husband might be. He takes a final swig of his beer and then sets it on a table, wiping the condensation off on his pants leg and then heading for the barn.

The darkness inside the barn is a welcome reprieve. The doors are already ajar and Poe is wholly unsurprised to see Armitage leaning up against the nose of the Cessna. He’s still wearing his jacket, though it’s unbuttoned now. His long legs are straight, crossed at the ankles, one arm folded across his chest as he raises the other to sip from the rocks glass in his hand.

Poe goes to him, takes the glass and sets it on the wing of the plane. He stands with his legs straddling Armitage’s, leaning forward and bracing his hands against the plane on either side of Armitage.

“You okay?”

Armitage nods, hands coming up to grip the front of Poe’s shirt and hanging there.

“Better than.”

“Just needed a break?”

“Yes.” His head is tilted down so that despite their height difference he’s looking up at Poe, his grey-green eyes framed by golden eyelashes, like he’s asking if that’s alright. And of course it is; Poe nods, stroking one hand lightly down Armitage’s arm.

“Want me to go?”

“No, I’m glad you’re here.” Armitage pulls him forward and Poe sighs happily as they embrace, holding each other close, Armitage sandwiched between Poe and the side of the plane.

“I think that went well,” Poe says, after a moment. Armitage makes a little _hmm?_ sound and Poe clarifies, “the wedding, I mean.”

“Well, we’re married, aren’t we?”

“Yes.” Poe cracks a smile, turns his head and hides it against the side of Armitage’s neck. “You’re right, it was a total success. We’re married. I can say it now?”

“You can say it now.”

“Thank you for marrying me, Mr. Armitage Hux-Dameron.”

“Poe,” Armitage whispers. “Poe Hux-Dameron.”

Poe chuckles.

“I love that. I love you.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

“I love you, too.”


End file.
